


Damascene

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-15
Updated: 2000-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Damascene

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Damascene by rac

Damascene  
by rac / February 2000

Warning: This story contains scenes and elements of consensual BDSM play. For those who find themselves disturbed by that type of thing, don't read it. And if you do, and still find yourself disturbed, I'm not interested in your whining. I expect only *adults* to be reading this…so therefore, act like one. And if you're not an adult and you're reading this, you can expect your eyes to turn to cinders in their sockets and your brain to rot from your head. Plus my server keeps track of numerical web addresses of visitors… so I can find you <g>

Rating: NC-17…not as harmless as the last one. Why? Because….

Disclaimers: …Walter made me write it. Walter *really* wanted to do it. And I *really* wanted to watch. Oh…wait a moment, these are disclaimers…I'm supposed to disclaim wanting to watch. Well…okay, I deny everything. I didn't write this, and hell no, I didn't enjoy it! Plus I got a bridge to sell….

Author's Notes: Thanks belatedly to all those who asked for more of this bitty series. Here it is, late but not forgotten. This is a direct sequel to Intaglio and Repoussé. I highly recommend reading them before this otherwise it'll be like walking into the middle of a play. You can find them at my website: http://enook.net/hl/rac/rac.htm  (The Keyhole) under "The Law".

Any polite critique or brown-nosing will be welcomed at <>. 

Archiving: yes to Basement, others, just let me know.

Thanks to: Xanthe, who's been bugging me to write a story like this for some time. My dear, your story "24/7" may be "only silly fun" to you, but I've been, uh, enjoying it immensely I can only hope this doesn't mimic it too closely--if so, it's purely unintentional! More thanks to Devo for her joy and enthusiasm about life; Diane for her wonderful, supportive presence at Escapade; and Luminosity, with her budding lust for all things Skinner. It's nice to have friends…love you all! Oh, and not to be forgotten: Sandy H. and her "Human" Skinner, which made me cry like a baby. Damn, you did *good*, woman.

dam·as·cene 1: To decorate (metal) with wavy patterns of inlay or etching.

carabiners: metal rings mountain climbers use to hook themselves and their ropes to other ropes. They come in a variety of styles of "gates" (openings), some automatic, some manually locking. They're perfect to use as restraint locks for scenes because they can be gotten out of easily by the person bound if they're put in such a way that their hands can reach, then manipulate, the gates. (I'm assuming the use of ball-locking gates on the ones I'm seeing Skinner using. Can be unlocked using one hand.) Plus, they're inexpensive (under $15) and easily purchased.

(I've fondly referred to the story from the start as Dom-scene. And this intro is now longer than the story)

rac <>   
================  
rac's Keyhole @ <http://enook.net/hl/rac/rac.htm>   
The HL NetCafe @ <http://enook.net/>   
Requited: A Sk/M Fantasy @ <http://enook.net/requited.htm>   
Wounded Heroes: a new zine @ <http://enook.net/woundedheroes.htm>

* * *

Damascene  
by rac / February 2000  
  


Skinner had the ability to make him fidget with just a look: that heavy-lidded stare, expressionless, intent. Many were the times Mulder had squirmed in the carefully positioned subordinate's chair across from Skinner's desk, sitting like a naughty child in the Principle's office. Waiting for the other shoe to drop as Skinner fingered through a report or simply sat back and contemplated his wayward Agent--always in absolute silence.

It was hard to fidget while driving, but Mulder proved it possible. When Skinner had handed him the car keys outside the Lone Gunman's place with a softly spoken, "You drive," Mulder had grasped them like a life preserver in a storm: Something to do! Something to focus on.

He'd completely forgotten that meant Skinner was then free to stare. At him. Contemplating him in that hulking, silent, intimidating way. Not even making a pretense of doing anything else. Turning fully in the passenger seat until his back was up against the door, his hands were crossed in a parody of serenity in his lap, and his eyes, oh dear god those obsidian, abyssal eyes, were fixed on Mulder as if his gaze had been superglued into position. Mulder figured even a semi careening into them along the 495 Outer Loop wouldn't budge Skinner from that imposing stance. No, they'd die and go to...wherever, and be standing in line waiting to get in and Skinner would still be next to him, silent, motionless.

Staring. Thinking about what Frohike had just revealed to the room in the heat of the moment, so to speak.

Shit.

"Fine! All right. Blame it all on me. It was all my fault. *I* put the idea into Frohike's head. *I* told him all about my fantasies. And *you* were the one to suffer for it all those months." Mulder's hands squeezed convulsively on the steering wheel in uneven rhythm with his outburst. "Just... shoot me and let's be done with it."

One eyebrow rose over the edge of Skinner's glasses. "Oh, no, Agent Mulder," his voice soft as silk, as rich and thick as a sueded belt, "shooting would be too easy an out. I think this requires..." Skinner broke off in contemplation, and Mulder nearly leaned into his lap, wanting to pull the rest of the words from his mouth.

A cell phone rang, a muted sound, but Mulder jumped nonetheless.

"Saved by the bell." Skinner sent an amused, feral glance in Mulder's direction and reached calmly into his breast pocket to answer it. His monosyllabic responses were unrevealing and terse; his thumb stabbed the talk button with annoyed control. "Head back to the office. There's an emergency I have to handle."

Mulder pulled over into the right-hand lane to take the next exit, trying manfully to contain the gleeful yes! that wanted so badly to burst out. The rest of the drive through the crowded streets of Washington was silent, Skinner no longer burning a hole in Mulder's head with his laser stare. They pulled into the Hoover garage, and Mulder parked in Skinner's reserved space with a relieved sigh.

Maybe this would be the end of it. Maybe Frohike's little revelation would now be forgotten in the rush of decisions and crises and the 101 things that would swallow Skinner into their grasp the moment he stepped foot into his office. Maybe they would laugh about it later on, and Mulder would make a deprecating joke about himself, and Skinner would tell Mulder he was simply glad Mulder had imagined those fantasies--

"Agent Mulder, step into my office for a moment." Skinner's voice cut across Mulder's daydream.

Yeah, and maybe Mulder was simply screwed.

"Kim, when is my calendar clear this afternoon?" Skinner stood with a hand on his hip, pushing back his suit jacket and showing the line of his body in perfect profile to Mulder, who skulked at the door.

On second thought, suddenly reminded of what was under that $400 suit, Mulder *hoped* he was screwed. Well screwed. Very, very well screwed.

"Mulder? Are you listening?" Skinner was looking at him, annoyed.

Whoops. "Sorry, sir."

"I'll be waiting for you here at seven, Agent Mulder."

"Seven? But--it's a--" The words died in his throat at the look on Skinner's face.

"A Friday night? I'm well aware of it, Agent Mulder. It's a Friday night for me, also. And if I'm working, then you can work, too, Agent. Is that clear?"

Mulder bit his inner lip, working to keep a neutral expression on his face. Two could play this game. "Perfectly, sir."

"I've got a very busy day ahead, and I'm sure I'll have worked up quite an appetite by then, so I'll arrange for something to appease our...hunger. I'm sure it'll make the time go by more quickly."

Mulder paled, then flushed at the look hidden in Skinner's eye. How did the man keep a straight face like that? "Yes, sir."

Skinner took one last look, then wheeled around into his sanctum sanctorum. Mulder caught Kim's eye as he turned to leave, flushing even more at the knowing, malice-tinged look Kim aimed at him. Panic dimmed clarity of thought: she knows! Her mouth curved into a smile under pleased eyes, and Mulder regained his senses. No, of course she didn't know...she was simply thinking that Spooky Mulder was going to get his comeuppance.

Mulder yanked open the door to the corridor and strode along to the elevator, stabbing at the button with vicious impatience.

And knowing Skinner, she might very well be right.

****

By seven on a Friday night, with no important operations underway, the Hoover was eerily silent. No ringing phones, no chattering voices, not even the muted whine of the janitor's vacuum could be heard as Mulder took the stairs up from the basement. At each level, he stopped and peered out into the main corridor, checking to see if anyone was still around. A few offices still showed signs of life, but the important VCS and the bullpen were dark and still.

Which meant, Mulder knew, their chances of being interrupted were slim.

Mulder wondered if he should be happy about that, or worry for his life. Nah, not his life. Skinner had too much control.

Worry for his *ass...that was the more tangible threat. That thought dodged his footsteps the rest of the way to Skinner's office.

Kim's office lay in shadows, all lights turned off. A swath of dim light shone from Skinner's inner office, spilling over Kim's desk in a wide stripe. Mulder went to the door and looked into the light, into the inner room.

It took Mulder a moment to find him. Skinner wasn't sitting as expected at his desk. Instead, he was sprawled on the couch, his head tilted back and his eyes closed, a glass in his hand with remnants of what appeared to be whisky. He looked tired, and Mulder felt a curious surge of tenderness. Even in his weariness, Skinner had yet to loosen his tie or roll up his sleeves. His only concession to the hour had been discarding his suit coat on a chair, but otherwise, he looked as fresh and crisp as he had earlier this morning while holding a gun on and scaring the bejesus out of Frohike and Byers.

The memory of that scene rumpled Mulder's mouth with humor, crinkling his eyes at the corners as he soundlessly approached the sleeping man.

"Mulder. You're late."

Scratch that--the not-sleeping man. Somehow, Skinner imbued his three words with an edge of irritated menace, without ever opening his eyes or moving a muscle. Mulder glanced at his wrist. "Not by my watch."

The obsidian eyes popped open. "Then your watch is wrong."

Guess that ended *that* discussion. It also sounded too much like the usual dynamic in this room, and Mulder hadn't shown up at 7:00 on a Friday night to review case notes. Time to suggest a swift exit and fade out to the next scene: Home. Bedroom. Bed.

Yeah. "Sir, you're right. It *is* late. I know I've been looking forward to an early night, turning in and going to bed for a change." Mulder emphasized bed ever so slightly, paranoid about their locale and the possible--no, highly probable--risk factors associated with it. "Why don't we call it a night," Mulder patted his pants, searching for car keys, "hell, we can call it a week since it's Friday, and--"

"Take off your clothes."

"--wait until after the weeke--" Mulder came to a halt as if he'd run into a wall and gave one slow blink. "What?"

"Take off your clothes."

Skinner sat there like a graven image, his head not moving from the back of the couch, his eyes the only thing alive: burning, fiery, electric eyes. How could dark brown eyes contain so much color? "That's what I thought you said." Mulder bit his lip. "Uh, this is a terribly exposed position we're in--"

"Not yet, but soon." Skinner's amused words sent chills down Mulder's back.

He tried one more time for sanity. "We can't. Not here. It's too...unsafe. Anybody could come by, even on a Friday night." Skinner just stared at him, and he gave one more feeble argument. "It's too...dangerous."

Silence settled into the room, loud enough for Mulder to hear the beating of his own heart, elevated heart rate, pumping fast like he'd been running. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his bloodstream. He couldn't believe Skinner wanted to start this here.

After a painfully long moment, seconds in reality but endless in effect, Skinner rose from his seat, his eyes never leaving Mulder. Like a silent, stalking cat, he padded around the furniture, walking around Mulder in a circle and stopped close up behind him. Sweat broke out on Mulder's body, his heart rate wobbled, and he damned the curling sensation of desire that coiled low in his belly.

"We have some unfinished business from this morning, Mulder. Are you saying you're not interested in playing tonight?" Skinner's mouth was behind Mulder's left ear, the breath from his soft, gentle words tickling faintly over the skin of Mulder's neck. "Just say the word, and we'll go our separate ways as if none of this happened."

Mulder opened his mouth to answer, and Skinner's voice cut him off. "None of it, Mulder. The past few weeks will have ceased to exist."

Shit. Mulder's mouth closed. Skinner meant he either played or that was the end of *them*. The erasing of them. Unbidden, memories of their handful of times together since Frohike and Langley had set them up like primed puppets came clearly to him. How could he give that up..and why would he want to?

But at such a risk...how could Skinner do this? Didn't he fear that cancerous bastard finding out? Or even more simply, anyone from the Bureau?

"Time's up, Mulder. Tell me now: stay, or go. It's up to you."

*Fuck!* Adrenaline surged through Mulder, making his legs shake ever so slightly. "Stay. I'll stay." Every worse-case scenario possible rushed through Mulder's mind as he spoke the fated words. His gallows humor reared its head and Mulder smirked. "Guess I'm used to getting reamed out in this room, might as well make it reality, huh?"

A sigh gusted over his neck. "You have no idea, Mulder, none, what I've really longed to do all these many long years of your insubordination." Skinner's voice moved from one ear to the other. "But you will." Warm lips latched onto Mulder's right ear, a damp tongue tracing the whorls of skin and cartilage around and around, then sucking the lobe gently before releasing. "Take your clothes off."

There it was again, that order. Combined with those shivery, feather-light touches of mouth to Mulder's sensitive ear--and yes, the bastard knew all about his erogenous zones. Head whirling already from an over-stimulation of adrenaline, fear, lust and anticipation, Mulder began stripping himself of his work clothes. Fumbling fingers undid the small white buttons of his dress shirt, loosened and pulled the tie off in one piece over his head.

Skinner walked around him, turning off the lamp by the couch, and walked back behind him. The only light now was from the ever-present lamp on Skinner's desk. Mulder turned as he shrugged out of his shirt and discovered the lamp shade had been tilted back, leaving the halogen bulb to shine directly out into the room. On him. Blinding him.

"Uh..."

He saw movement in the shadows from the corners of his eyes and heard the distinctive click of the door bolt sliding into place. Relief slid through him at that--they'd have to either break down the door or be using electronic surveillance in the room to catch them in the act.

Relief soured a bit--who's to say they weren't routinely bugging Skinner's office? Or worse, using video feeds? Mulder *watched* videos, he never expected to star in one.

Sweat oozed from his pores even though his skin was now exposed to the cooler air.

"Don't stop, Mulder."

So firm, so hard, implacable, that voice. It slid into him like its owner did, unyielding and inevitable. Mulder undid his belt and button, the sound of his pants zipper clear in the room. As he let the fine wool trousers drop to the floor, Mulder heard the unmistakable squeak of Skinner's office chair as he leaned back into it.

*Fuck*--the image tightened the coil in Mulder's belly. Skinner, sitting back in his chair, dressed as he usually was, not a wrinkle or crease marring his countenance, while Mulder did a slow strip-tease in the spotlight. Straightening up and casting the trousers aside, Mulder was embarrassed at the enthusiasm tenting his boxers. Skinner must be getting off on *that*.

Obviously, Mulder was getting off on it.

Perversely, he took his time sliding off socks, unstrapping his watch and setting it aside. Finally, he stood there in only his boxers, and Mulder could almost feel Skinner's gaze on him, tightening that coil just a little bit tighter, hardening his cock a notch more. Staring into the shadows behind the light, Mulder slowly pulled the shorts down, bending over and stepping out of them gracefully and laying them with the rest of his clothes. Naked, he turned and faced the light again, hands on hips with impatience, showcasing the erection now brushing against his hip.

"Agent Mulder, reporting as ordered, sir." There. The scene had only lacked his sarcastic mouth, and Mulder felt a bit more back in control.

"Not quite, Agent Mulder," Skinner's voice came from the shadows. "There are...items you'll need during this case. Go to the next room and equip yourself."

Mulder grinned and headed for Skinner's executive bathroom.

"Fully, Agent Mulder. Don't skip over any preparations," Skinner warned.

Um. Mulder pushed into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. A small white light burned in the wall socket, bright enough to see clearly the items spread on the vanity surface: Towel and washcloth, soap and shampoo--Skinner wanted Mulder to take a shower--a cockring, wrist and ankle braces complete with D-rings. Lube. A Fleet enema? Grimacing, Mulder turned the sink tap on hot, waited until it steamed, then placed the enema bottle under the hot water. Best to get that part of his preparations over with first.

And try not to be paranoid about an all-seeing electronic eye.

****

The clock in Skinner's bathroom told him over 20 minutes had passed, and back in the office it appeared as if Skinner hadn't moved once during that time. The light greeted Mulder again as he opened the door, blinding him with its halogen brightness and leaving Skinner a vague silhouette in the darkness beyond. The cuffs felt soft and secure against the tender skin of his inner wrists, warm around his ankles. Loose D-rings bounced with silent movements against the neoprene, a steady rhythm as he walked. Around the base of his mostly-flaccid cock, the leather cockring snugged tight. His cock stirred now from nerves, embarrassment and excitement as he stood naked and decorated in his boss' office for his pleasure.

"Agent Mulder, equipped for duty, sir." He couldn't help injecting his own brand of nervous wisecrack humor into the moment. He stood fidgeting in front of Skinner's desk before Skinner replied.

"It's no X-File that's a good look for you, Mulder." The chair squeaked, and Mulder wondered what Skinner was doing. "Turn around." Mulder did. "See the chair in front of you?"

Gone were the two open-frame chairs that normally sat there. In their place sat one of the large, upholstered chairs from the living room grouping. It had a low back but was wide, with full, cushioned arms and overstuffed cushions in its seat and back. Black leather upholstery gleamed dully with reflected light.

"Embrace it, Mulder. I want you bent over it, ass in the air."

Blood surged in a pleasant tide at Skinner's words even as another part of Mulder fought it. The pleasure won out; he draped himself gingerly over the chair. Its coolness connected from his thighs to his face, his stomach and cock shrinking away from the chill. It felt good against his face, where hot skin revealed his uncertainty and tension. But as he slowly relaxed, the heat from his body transferred to the leather, warming it, making it feel more pliable and supple. Breathing deeply, the distinctive earthiness of expensive leather filled his head, surrounding him with its heady scent.

Mulder couldn't imagine what he looked like--didn't want to imagine, with his ass waving in the breeze, highlighted by the halogen's glare. It was humiliating, it was embarrassing. Dammit, it was a hell of a turn-on. His cock had swollen to half-hard proportions against the warming, slick feel of the leather upholstery.

He sighed; yet another entry in his "things to feel guilty about in the deep of the night" journal. But not now, oh no, not now. Now was for the pleasure and enjoyment. Now was for experiencing everything he possibly could, all the things he could accuse himself of later. Now was for him.

"Very nice." A warm hand settled on his lower back, smoothing small circles before sliding down to caress both ass checks.

Now was for Skinner, too. Mulder buried his face more deeply in the soft cushion, hiding the grin spreading over his face. Or...Skinner was for him, to be more specific.

A hand settled on his lower back, warm and possessive. "What's the word, Mulder?" Skinner, calm and solid, completely in control as always, and as always, carefully thorough.

"Mmm...uh, Scully."

There was no sound, but Mulder knew his choice had amused Skinner. The hand on his lower back twitched. "That'll get my attention."

"Isn't that the idea?" Mulder wiggled, antsy.

"Be still." Two hands began to sooth him along his back, over his shoulders and down his arms. Each hand was stretched out to the side, and Mulder could hear the clink of metal as Skinner attached his wrists to chains running from the front legs of the chair. They'd played before at Skinner's place, so it wasn't totally new, but the surroundings added a piquancy and dash of fear that had Mulder's senses on full alert.

Skinner used his foot to gently sweep Mulder's feet, one at a time, further out to the sides. Each ankle ring was attached to a length of chain from the back legs of the chair. When Skinner was done, Mulder tested his restraints. "Hey, I can't grab the carabiners."

"Yes, you can, Mulder." Skinner folded his hands around Mulder's and showed him it was possible--barely. "You'll just have to work at it, if necessary. You're dexterous, aren't you?" Skinner's amusement filtered easily through his words even though Mulder couldn't see him.

"Naked in your office isn't exactly the place I want to get stuck, unable to get myself out of restraints if something should happen."

"Well, then, I'd guess you'd better hope nothing happens."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. His protective paranoia flamed high. For years, he'd spent dodging one attempt by the Consortium after another to catch him in humiliating, potentially disastrous situations, and now he'd delivered himself literally lock, stock and barrel for potential disaster right in his own house, so to speak.

His breathing sped up along with his heart rate, and he moaned faintly. His cock had hardened considerably more.

"You know, this really sucks. I'm such a slut," he whispered against the leather.

"Be quiet, Mulder, or I'll think of a suitable punishment." Skinner pressed in close behind him. The fine wool of Skinner's pants scraped against the skin on his bottom and thighs, a warm, dry, scrubbing sensation that awakened all Mulder's nerves.

"I've watched you for years, Mulder." Skinner slid his hands along Mulder's back, drawing back down with his nails, lightly scratching the skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave red marks. "You've been addicted to danger for as long as I've known you. Why do you think you've thrown yourself into one escapade after another?"

Skinner began rotating his hips gently, in rhythm with the up and down of his hands. Mulder relaxed further, sinking into all the sensations Skinner was creating.

"I used to think you might have a serious death wish, from a combination of bad childhood experiences and what that bastard Patterson later pushed you into during your early Bureau years."

Skinner's cock pressed against him, the wool hardly disguising its presence. Already Mulder could imagine that length sliding unencumbered against him: hot, damp flesh, pulsing and turgid. Could imagine it sliding into him, large and inexorable, could feel himself helplessly impaled on that length--Mulder groaned, an open-mouthed sound that came from his gut, and pulled against his restraints mindlessly. Chain links whispered against each other as Skinner's murmured words washed over him, and he had a hard time focusing on them.

"The more I watched you, though, the more I realized...you don't want to die, Mulder--you want to live. You just need something more...more stimulation than you've ever known."

Heat enveloped Mulder as Skinner leaned over him fully, covering him from head to toe. Down-soft Egyptian cotton teased Mulder's back and arms as Skinner's shirt flowed over his skin. The silk of his tie slithered down Mulder's spine, warm from Skinner's body. His belt buckle dug into Mulder's lower back lightly, imprinting its shape in his flesh.

Skinner's breath teased his right ear. "I'll give you what you need. I'll give you so much stimulation, you can't take anymore. We'll fill up that empty reservoir of need you have, fill it so full you won't have to go looking anywhere else. No more risking your life on the job, Mulder." Skinner bit his ear and stroked his hands down and under Mulder's chest. "Because if you do, you'll risk losing this."

Skinner's fingers found Mulder's nipples, twisting and pinching, pain and pleasure writhing through his body from the one touch. "You'll risk losing this by making me irrevocably angry, or by hurting yourself." Skinner pulled with his fingers, and Mulder groaned, jerking his hips between the limits of warm wool and hot leather.

"And I won't stand for your hurting yourself anymore. *I'm* the only one who has that right now, you hear me, boy?" Skinner's voice, so soft, so intense, thundering in his ear while his hand did such wonderful things to his body. "I'll be the one to make you scream with pleasure...or with pain. You don't have that right anymore--you gave it to me."

Skinner started plucking at the soft hairs under his arm, and Mulder flinched, trying to draw his arms in to protect himself, but couldn't. The chains rattled with each movement as he jerked again, each delicate pull like fire and ice along his nerves, coming one after the other until they blended together, burning him. "You gave me this right over you, didn't you, Mulder? And I'll keep it--until the day you take it back. But once you take it back, Mulder, it's over. Don't forget that." Teeth closed over the fleshy skin on his neck, biting hard and sucking, leaving a great, throbbing place Mulder knew would be purple the next day.

"You're mine, Mulder," Skinner hissed fiercely, "and I don't want what's mine hurt or damaged. If you break or injure what's mine, I'll damn well beat you myself once you're fixed." Skinner's hand rubbed hot, concentric circles over Mulder's right butt cheek, the friction building heat. "Then maybe I'll hang you naked in the my bathroom all day with the door open, while the entire Hoover parades in and out of my office a few feet away."

*Crack*--Skinner's hand came down fast and hard, the sound loud and just as sharp as the sting that lit nerves in Mulder's butt. "You're *my* slut, boy," *crack*, the hand came down on the other side, "and don't you forget it. I want you just the way you are, dammit," *crack*, "so get rid of your damned guilt right now."

*Crack, crack*. Skinner dealt out two slaps close together, right at the lower edge of his ass, and Mulder swallowed the groan that threatened. "I like you naked and begging. It's the hottest thing I've seen in years." *Crack*. "You're keeping me young, boy, so you'd better not change."

Three, four, five more slaps landed in random patterns on his ass and upper thighs. Mulder moaned as the heat spread like a nova through his lower body. Skinner hadn't held back with the strength of his swinging arm. Mulder's skin felt hot and tight, swollen as blood swarmed angrily in his skin, reddening its surface. Blood swelled his cock, too, pulsing deep with each slap of Skinner's hand.

Silent, Skinner picked up the pace of his slaps, raining them down in uneven rhythm until Mulder finally gasped and whimpered at the sharp, radiating pain. He tried to relax, to sink into the pain each time Skinner's hand connected with him, but the anticipation, not knowing where or when the blow would land, had his nerves jumping and twitching. Only after Skinner slowed down to an eventual stop did Mulder stop fighting the feeling, letting the bright pain engulf him in its wave, riding it to a higher level while his entire body glowed with heat.

"Fuck me," he whispered, panting against the leather when Skinner stopped altogether.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Skinner leaned down, his words low and hard and intimate. "Maybe you need your mouth kept occupied, hmm?"

Fingers caressed the side of Mulder's face and found the edge of his mouth. Mulder turned and sucked in Skinner's fingers, salt and the taste of Skinner bursting through Mulder's mouth. Mulder heard the soft whiz of a zipper, felt cool air caress him as Skinner moved away from his position behind. One hand kept contact with his mouth, while the slither of cotton and the clink of a belt came from the side.

"Now put that clever mouth of yours to use."

Mulder felt the chair cushions dip, heard the sound of leather giving way, then body heat near him, and he felt the tip of Skinner's cock edge up next to Skinner's fingers on his mouth. He murmured wordlessly, opening for Skinner's entry.

Salt and musk exploded on his tongue and in his nose as velvet-soft skin stretched his mouth and crinkly hair brushed against his chin and cheeks. Essence of Skinner saturated his entire world. Firm hands grasped either side of his head, fingers tunneling through his hair to caress, grip, placing him exactly how Skinner wanted, roughly helping to hold up his head.

Oh *God*, this was good. Excitement beat through Skinner's cock and against Mulder's tongue, the large vein pulsing in rhythm with Skinner's heart. Skinner let him hear how excited and pleased he was, groaning deep in his chest as he undulated his hips, sliding in and out of Mulder's rapacious mouth, slowly edging farther back into Mulder's throat. Mulder sucked on withdrawal and applied his clever, busy tongue in between, and he felt a thrill run through him when Skinner's hands clenched tightly in his hair, halting his mouth as Skinner hissed Mulder's name. Breathing fast and deep, Mulder waited as Skinner froze in position, too close to the edge to move.

Mulder moaned and ground his own bound erection into the leather beneath him. He felt unbelievably good, knowing he could drive Skinner to the edge so easily, and Skinner let him know it, let him hear it. Rock Man showing himself to Mulder, exposing himself. Who'd have thought Mulder could come from only tasting, smelling and touching another man? But he could, he had in the past: Skinner's unfettered pleasure turned him on more than the hottest, most clever mouth coaxing him to climax. He'd probably come now if it weren't for the constriction around the base of his swollen cock. He moaned again, fully aware now of the agony of hanging on the precipice, mingled pleasure and pain.

Leather groaned as Skinner moved away from Mulder's face, pulled back and out then moved around to his right side, Skinner's hands never once leaving him. Sitting on the wide arm, Skinner leaned in and embraced Mulder, trailing his mouth over shoulder and neck, tilting Mulder's face up to receive a thorough and probing kiss, tongues dueling.

"You like that, don't you," Mulder could hear the satisfaction in Skinner's deep voice, "I do, too. Very nice, sweetheart, so very, very, good."

Mulder almost whimpered. There was something about these moments when they'd slid deep in role, when Skinner's voice turned gentle and soft, full of nuances usually hidden, when he used terms of endearments like sweetheart and baby, words neither man would ever say to each other under any other circumstance, but oh, *God*, what they did to him now, flaying him open and emptying him of all will save that of Skinner's. Making him feel something beyond words for this man, hard and uncompromising, yes--but who seemed to know exactly what Mulder needed even better than he did himself. Later--later there would be time enough for the fear and the paranoia, and even a twinge of embarrassment as their eyes met in public while discussing a case, but now, here, Mulder wanted to feel only this, wanted to feel the need, and yes, feel encompassed by Skinner and his desire.

"You know we're not done. There's more." Words whispered into his ear while Skinner's hands soothed Mulder, running up and down his flanks while Mulder did whimper, wondering what Skinner was planning next. "I think it's only fitting that you experience the whip for the first time in my office, the place of your greatest insubordination."

"*Ah*--" Mulder gasped at Skinner's words, fear pushing the breath out of him in a small sound. They'd not played that deeply before, and Mulder shivered at the sudden anticipation chilling him.

"Does that scare you?" Skinner moved around behind him again and embraced him. Bare skin and cotton enveloped Mulder, Skinner's shirt draping open to either side, his cotton briefs smooth against Mulder's ass. "You'll do fine. The kiss of the whip is cruel at first, its lick the sharpest sting, but you'll surrender to it. After a while, you'll feel its lick in every part of your body and moan from the pleasure of it, just like the lick of my tongue on your ass."

Mulder's cock now leaked unceasingly. Pain from its binding blended in with his pleasure until they were inseparable. Skinner's voice burned inside, images from his words shivering through Mulder. He sagged helplessly against the cushions supporting him, nothing to do but surrender. Mulder turned his head blindly to where Skinner's face rubbed against his shoulder.

"I'll take you, too, but first, I want to see a reminder of your agreement marked on your ass. I want to know that tomorrow, you'll feel it and remember this." Skinner hands were everywhere, plucking and stroking down the sensitive undersides of his arms, his nipples, and down to surround and tease his cock, slipping down between his legs to circle his greedy ass. "Remember that you come to me when your blood burns hot and you need to feel adrenaline surging as you search for the truth. I'll show you the truth, Mulder, a truth no one else will show you, the truth buried deep inside you."

Skinner calmed his anticipatory shivers, then stood up close by his side, the hair on their legs brushing roughly together. Skinner kept one hand smoothing on Mulder's ass, then lightly slapped his left side. Mulder felt something else trailing up and over his back, a long, thin shape, making him shiver once again.

"Here it is, Fox. Look at it, know it. This is yours, bought for you. Bought to let out the need inside of you, in a place where it won't hurt you." Mulder opened his eyes and saw Skinner's hand holding the innocuous-looking instrument in front of his face, a small, thin whip of a light tan color. "Kiss it, Mulder, give it your respect."

Skinner held it to his mouth, and Mulder closed his eyes and put his mouth against the whip, smelled its new-leather smells mixed with the smell of Skinner on it, touched his tongue to it to gather the taste of it in his mouth, taking this instrument of pain he both desired and feared inside him as much as possible.

Then Skinner moved to the side, his hand never ceasing its movements over Mulder's butt and thighs. He felt the whip trailed over his shoulders, down his spine and slip between his ass. "Such a fine line between pleasure and pain, isn't it, Fox?" Skinner murmured, rubbing the whip more firmly over Mulder's pucker.

The whip against his stretched and sensitive skin drove him crazy, and Mulder groaned. He pushed his ass higher and his legs out farther, the chains adding a background music to the sounds they made.

"Such a fine line between sensible and too far." Skinner rubbed the whip one last time over Mulder's anus, then brought it up fast. With a faint whistle of air, it connected across the fleshy part of his left cheek with a stinging snap.

Mulder jerked and gasped out loud--*Fuck*! it hurt! Before he could draw a breath, Skinner had it back between his ass, and Mulder could feel the ridges of the wrapped handle bump slowly against him, back and forth. He moaned, shoving his ass further back, then, *snap*! The whip connected on his right cheek, and he couldn't help jerking away, the sting even more intense, radiating pain through his whole ass.

"Such a fine line between calculated risk and suicide," Skinner murmured, his fingers sliding in to brush against Mulder's anus. Skinner reached further under Mulder to gather his pre-come while the whip trailed circles over the welts in his butt, keeping the pain alive. Mulder bucked his hips forward, but Skinner's fingers moved back to his ass, damp and probing. Mulder jerked backward, desperate to feel his hands, and the whip whistled down--*snap*!--once again, laying a line of fire under the curve of Mulder's left cheek. Skinner's fingers stabbed in once again. The fire from the whip screamed through him along with the pleasure of his ass being fucked, and Mulder sobbed out loud, further undone by the tears appearing unbidden from his eyes.

Skinner slowly picked up the pace, roughly stabbing with long fingers in Mulder's anus while bringing the whip to bear on Mulder's ass and thighs. Mulder thought his head would explode from the impulses of pain and pleasure his nerves relayed: lines of icy fire laid just so up and down both sides of his ass, interspersed with a finger or a thumb stabbing in his grasping, greedy hole, while his weeping cock, as bound as the rest of him, kept grinding against the damp patch on the leather.

Mulder wasn't sure how much time had passed when he realized Skinner had stopped fucking him and had removed his fingers, now only smoothing his hand over Mulder's back and thighs and ass in between cracks of the whip. He felt suddenly euphoric, knowing each sting of the whip beat a stripe of fiery red into his ass, yet now, each crack felt nearly orgasmic as it connected and oddly ticklish in the after-effects, spreading a creeping sensation through his skin.

He was flying on endorphins, high on his body's reaction to the pain, and at the moment he didn't care about anything. Was ecstatic, he realized, that his lover, the boss who'd growled at him for years, could take him to this place, even *wanted* to take him to this place of unfamiliar pleasure.

And it was a pleasure, giving Skinner the chance to do this--hadn't Mulder driven Skinner to want to beat his ass time and time again, when Skinner had no recourse other than official discipline? All Mulder's many sins and his guilt now redeemed through propitiation, sacrificing himself on the alter of his own desires to his own personal master.

He floated, buoyed by the absence of his usual free-floating guilt, swallowed up in the bright, consuming insistence of his body to listen and heed only its reality: heat, sharp, cold, pain, soft, pleasure. Nothing else mattered. Fabulous. He gave a hiccoughing laugh.

"All over, Mulder," Skinner's voice drifted into Mulder's thoughts, pulling him away from the electric adrenaline coursing through him like fine wine, heady and mind-altering. Everything seemed so intense--the slick-skin feel of the warm leather he slowly rubbed himself against, his cock and belly and chest luxuriating in its supple heat. Every move Skinner made was communicated by the air wafting over his naked back, and Mulder imagined that he could feel each molecule as it impacted against his skin, tiny collisions bouncing onto him in waves of cool air against his hot, hot skin.

His hearing sharpened, hearing cotton sliding against cotton while the air wafted over him in soft waves: Skinner undressing further. Mulder groaned, hands pulling aimlessly against the chains, knowing what came next, wanting it more than ever before.

Skinner leaned into him carefully, pressing against his hot skin and Mulder cried out. The hair on Skinner's legs and his groin scoured against him, a sudden jolt to remind him how raw his skin really was and how sore he'd feel later.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, Fox?" Skinner's voice, deep and strong, seemed to surround him from behind, embracing him as much as Skinner's body. "You're the bravest man I know, and you've given me something no one else can give." Skinner tilted Mulder's face to the side and kissed him, a deep, erotic kiss full of thrusting tongue. "Time to take you further, take you all the way. I want you to beg me, Mulder, beg for more."

Skinner pulled away abruptly, sliding down Mulder's legs until he felt Skinner's hot breath on his even hotter ass, felt the imprint of Skinner's mouth kissing him along the stinging welts.

"So you don't lose the feeling too soon..."

Mulder heard the sounds of something plastic, felt Skinner moving behind him, then felt the shock of something cool against his butt. He flinched, then sighed as Skinner gently massaged in some kind of cream, his fingers careful to outline each and every raised welt. It felt marvelous, intense and good, somewhere between pure pleasure and pain, and wholly addictive. Mulder could even smell the new scent over the leather and male musk filling his nostrils: a kind of spicy odor that smelled familiar.

As Skinner kept rubbing, the coolness disappeared, and heat appeared in its place. Heat bloomed all over his ass, even where Skinner wasn't touching, and Mulder shifted uneasily as the fire turned up a notch again.

"Feel that, don't you? It'll remind you of the whip's presence, keep the heat from dying down. You don't want to lose that high too quickly, do you?" Mulder heard the amusement in Skinner's voice, imagined him smiling, and butted his now-flaming ass back into Skinner's face with a moan. "Nice and red, a strong burn. Let's add something else."

Fingers pried Mulder's ass apart, bright points of fiery sensation where they dug into the welts along his cheeks. Mulder groaned loudly, then shouted, surprised when a wet tongue scraped against his neglected hole. "Shout again, Fox," Skinner murmured against his hot skin. "Say my name. I want to make sure you know who makes you feel this way."

A damp tongue feathered against him, and Mulder did shout, biting into the leather cushion with no thought for leaving teeth marks. He struggled against Skinner's hold, but strong arms pressed him down easily into the deep cushions. Harder, why was it infinitely harder to accept this pleasure than it was the pleasure/pain of the whip? Mulder gasped a breath, forcing himself to stillness and acceptance of the pleasure Skinner gave him.

And oh *God*, it was good, Skinner knew just how to touch him, just how long to tease. Large hands covered his ass cheeks, massaging and spreading him wide while Skinner's mouth devoured him, lips, teeth and tongue all used to advantage. Mulder felt like an hors d'oeuvre, nibbled and swallowed whole, Skinner taking him as skillfully with his mouth as he did with his cock. A tongue stabbed deep, opening, pushing past the muscle, but there was little resistance.

He was more than ready, more than wanted to feel Skinner deep inside. "Sir, now. Do it. Do it. Please," Mulder moaned.

The tongue trailed up Mulder's crease, and up farther over his spine to the back of his neck. Completely naked now, Skinner pressed against him, all warm, fuzzy skin, his rampant cock sliding into the crease of Mulder's ass. Mulder moaned as Skinner's skin and hair rubbed against his burning skin, the moan turning to pleasure as Skinner's hand reached down and fondled Mulder's cock for the first time.

"We'll have to take this off soon, but not yet," Skinner promised, tracing the edge of the leather collar tight around Mulder's cock. "First--"

Mulder gasped as something very cold dribbled down his ass--lube. Skinner smeared it into Mulder, working it into his ass with patient fingers, then dribbled more and repeated the process. It seemed endless to Mulder, but finally Skinner was satisfied and Mulder felt Skinner's cock settle snug against his hole. Finally! Mulder thought, and pushed back as far as his bindings would let him, impaling himself on Skinner's large, firm flesh. It burned into him, stretching him with an icy-hot feeling. He forced himself back further on it, and Skinner completed the joining by ramming in the last few inches, seating himself fully against Mulder's ass. Two hands once again covered his butt while Skinner slid nearly all the way out and shoved back in again, hard.

This was what he'd wanted, this. What he'd become addicted to in the past few weeks. "Yes, yes--" Mulder gasped.

"Name, Fox, my name. Say it. Say it." Skinner rammed in so hard, chains rattled as Mulder slid forward on his belly. "Say it, Fox." Skinner set a punishing pace and didn't let up. The pounding jarred Mulder everywhere, and he gladly let all muscles relax and sank boneless into the chair. His ass was a mass of short circuiting nerves, sparking and sending conflicting messages: pain, ecstasy, heat--everything rolled around inside Mulder and melded into a single, huge sensation.

"Walter! Do it. So...damn...*good*." Mulder rattled along with the chains.

"Yes," Skinner growled, and grabbed his hips and pounded into him double-time. Overload, Mulder was on overload, his cock so needy it began to hurt. Skinner found his erection and grasped the leather ring, quickly undoing the snap with two fingers.

Feeling surged like a tidal wave into his cock and Mulder groaned hoarsely, unable to bear it in silence. His climax roiled up from deep inside on the heels of the wave, and Mulder gritted out, "Can't hold it." He climaxed with a shout, coming over Skinner's hand and onto the leather chair, sobbing through it until it was over. Peripherally, he felt Skinner's lethal grip on his flaming ass, Skinner fucking Mulder hard and fast until he too came, groaning out loud and biting the left side of Mulder's neck one last time.

****

Floating. Warmth. Sex and hot leather. Musk and semen, faint odor of juniper--Skinner, arms and legs laying like a heavy blanket on over his back. His shower soap and after-shave. Juniper, aloe and mint. It always gave Mulder a hunger, smelling that. Fresh and clean, a no-nonsense odor for a no-nonsense man. Had Sharon given that to him years ago, or was it something Skinner had picked out himself, something purely his?

What a night. He barely remembered leaving the Hoover and driving here, staggering into the apartment and falling into bed, Skinner taking most of his clothes off. Mulder began to stretch and immediately froze, pain radiating from every portion of his butt. Fuck! He'd forgotten, but not anymore! "Uh..."

"Awake?" Skinner's face was tucked down in the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," Mulder said through clenched teeth, "especially since I tried to move."

"Ah...fire down below." Skinner sounded amused.

Mulder wasn't. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

"Come on, get up. Let's get you in a cool shower."

Mulder had to admit, Skinner took care not to scrape across his no doubt red-as-fire ass as he moved away from Mulder. But it was the familiar *smack* in the middle of his right cheek that ruined Skinner's efforts.

"Fuck me!" Mulder rolled away to edge of the bed, then to his feet, grimacing.

Even naked, sans his glasses, Skinner still managed to look dignified and powerful. And amused. "Now? You sure, Mulder? Is this a hair-of-the-dog cure?"

Bastard. Mulder glared at him while walking stiffly into the bathroom, feeling very much sorry for himself. After using the toilet, he twisted around in front of the mirror, examining himself.

Red welts lay in carefully laid lines across his ass and just under the curve of his cheeks, on his thighs. Aesthetically speaking, it was a beautiful job--but Mulder wasn't in any mood to admire it from that angle. It *hurt*, and he was pouting.

He leaned carefully into the shower stall, adjusted the temperature to tepid and stepped in gingerly. Cool water rained down and soothed the fire that burned in his skin, giving him a blessed sense of relief. He was prepared to stand in here all damn day if necessary--and Skinner could damn well afford to pay for the exorbitant water bill.

Thirty minutes later, Skinner slid back the shower door and found Mulder hunched over nearly asleep, arms folded on the rear shower shelf, his head nestled comfortably on them as his ass stuck out under the water.

"Feeling better?" The door slid shut with a slight bang.

Mulder grunted, not wanting to move. "Yeah. G'way. M'sleepin'."

"So I see." Skinner moved around Mulder and squeezed onto the rear seat between Mulder and the wall. "Let's see if we can rouse some of those sleeping endorphins for you."

The words barely registered when Skinner found Mulder's cock, small and shriveled from the cool water and his total lack of energy, and engulfed it in his mouth down to the root and sucked, teasing the glans and the underside with his tongue.

"Walter!" Mulder woke and nearly lost his footing, flailing clumsily, but managing to grasp Skinner's naked scalp in his damp hands.

"Good morning, Mulder," Skinner's obsidian eyes gleamed up at him through the wet.

"Uh." Mulder, foggy-brained and fiery-assed, looked down at Skinner on his cock and couldn't believe he was getting hard. "Um."

Skinner gently pushed him against the tiles and Mulder hissed, expecting pain, but sighed with relief as the cool, wet tiles felt great against his butt. Skinner reapplied himself to Mulder's cock, and Mulder sighed gustily, relaxing into the pleasure.

Cold tiles on his ass, hot mouth on his cock--life couldn't get much better than this, Mulder figured. Nice. Last night had turned out great. Nothing he'd want to do all the time, he did like to sit once in a while, but occasionally? Yeah. It'd been a rush, a fucking *rush*, surrendering himself completely.

And fairly riskless, thank god. No one would ever find out what he carried on his body to remind him of his surrender. Yeah.

He grasped Skinner's head tightly to him. Oh, yeah. This was good, too.

****

"Have a seat, Mulder. I've got our lunch." Scully indicated the bench she sat on. "How was your weekend?"

Mulder shrugged. "Same old, same old." His movements were slow and deliberate as he lowered himself onto the wooden bench. "Worked late Frida*yyyooowww*! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Mulder's voice echoed across the Mall, stopping pedestrian traffic for a moment as he jumped up as if shot.

"My God, Mulder, what's wrong? What is it?" Scully jumped up off the bench herself, their lunch scattering to the ground unnoticed as she automatically fumbled for her gun, trying to watch Mulder and look around for potential threats at the same time.

Mulder stood with both hands plastered to the seat of his pants. "Fucking *hell*!" He ground his teeth together. "I...sat on something. Something sharp," he hissed, bending over and fighting the lancing pain.

"Sat on something--!" Scully quickly turned around and swept careful hands over the seat. "Oh, Mulder, oh no...it's a nail. A good-sized one. A rusty one." Serious blue eyes beamed in on him, and a sinking, dreadful feeling added itself to the incredible pain in his butt. "You're going to have to get the wound cleaned, Mulder, no matter how small, and have your medical records checked to see if you need another tetanus shot."

Of all the fucking stupid luck. "No."

"Mulder--"

"NO!" He ground his jaw again, pacing to dissipate the pain.

Cool blue eyes met his. "I'm not arguing with you on this one, Mulder. It's either a hospital, or I'll do it back in the office."

Fuming, Mulder turned his back on Scully, paced away and pulled out his cell phone, punching in a memory number. The phone rang twice.

"Skinner."

Mulder didn't mince words. "I need a doctor. A discrete doctor. For a puncture wound on my ass."

"A puncture...." Silence flowed through the line. "Do I want to hear this story?"

"No. My partner is standing behind me, ready to tie me down and examine me and give me a tetanus shot."

Mulder could hear Skinner wavering between laughter and seriousness. Seriousness won out. "Where are you?"

"Reflecting pool at the Mall, south side."

Skinner sighed. "I'll pick you up in a few minutes. Stay put."

Mulder flipped the phone shut. "All arranged with my own doctor, Scully. There's no need for you to be poking around down in my pants."

Scully was looking at him like he'd either lost his mind, or was the biggest liar in the western hemisphere.

Both were likely true.

"Mulder--"

"Scully, please. This is embarrassing enough. Just--let me handle this, okay? Someone's coming to take me to my own doctor. A *male* doctor, a doctor who's *not* my partner."

"But--" Scully took one look at Mulder's face and backed down. "Okay, Mulder. But I'm serious about that tetanus shot. I'll tie you down and pull your pants down myself, if I have to."

"Join the club," Mulder muttered.

"What club?"

"Nothing. Never mind. I'm just pissed and feeling like an idiot."

"It's hardly your fault. It could have been anyone, me, that sat on it. I'm going to call Pendrell to bring over a hammer so no one else... uh..."

"Gets his ass nailed?" Mulder said sourly.

Scully pursed her lips together to contain the laughter suddenly in her eyes. "Well, yes. Exactly."

Mulder simply glared at her and wheeled away, walking slowly over to the road to wait for Skinner.

He didn't have to wait long. Skinner's silver Bureau-issue Crown Vic pulled up to the curb and Mulder slid very carefully into the front seat using only his left hip. Wordlessly, Skinner pulled back out into traffic.

"Where are you going?"

"A doctor I know in Reston. He's knowledgeable. And discreet."

Mulder grunted and laid his head back on the headrest, trying not to move.

"You want to tell me what happened here, Mulder?"

"Not really."

"Indulge me, since we're losing a few hours of work," Skinner ordered in an implacable voice.

Mulder cussed luridly, then told him.

Skinner's mouth didn't so much as twitch, surely an admirable feat, Mulder thought sourly, and silence reigned for the next 30 minutes as they made their way west to the upscale suburb of Reston. Skinner drove straight to a lushly landscaped medical office complex, where they parked and went in to the equally lush offices of one Dr. Edwin V. Staunton.

As soon as Skinner identified them to the receptionist, they were whisked immediately back to an exam room, where they waited for only a minute before a short, blonde, attractive late 30s-something man bounded in.

"Walter! So good to see you."

"Ed." Skinner repressed a grin.

"Tricia said there'd been an accident?" Dr. Edwin Staunton's eyes fixed on Mulder with no pretense about his fascination. "I'm...surprised."

"Not by *my* hand, Ed. Mulder just got his ass nailed one too many times."

Mulder flushed a lurid red. "At lunch in the park, I...sat on a nail on a bench."

"Ouch." Staunton held out his hand for an easy handshake. "Ed Staunton, by the way."

"Fox Mulder."

Staunton grinned easily. "I can see that."

Skinner snorted.

"Well, Fox Mulder, pull down your pants, climb up on the table, and we can become better acquainted."

"You going to watch?" Mulder asked Skinner waspishly.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Skinner replied. "And someone's got to protect your...virtue from Ed," Skinner said as he stared at Mulder. "Would you prefer to have his nurse in here?"

Mulder shook his head and turned away from the two gargoyles making fun of him. As quickly as possible, he shucked his suit coat and pants and lay on the exam table while Staunton assembled needed items.

He heard the snap of latex, then, "Oh. Very nice, Walter. Beautiful work. I thought you'd been out of the scene for years." Investigating fingers prodded at him, and Mulder clenched his butt against the sudden pain. "Sorry, Mr. Mulder." The hands moved more gently.

"Just Mulder," Mulder muttered.

Mulder heard Skinner's shoes scrape against the floor. "Yes, I hadn't, not for years. Sharon wasn't into it much, so... Then the promotion, and work got busy..." Mulder heard the shrug in Skinner's voice. "I wasn't exactly planning on reviving that part of my life, but the opportunity fell into my lap and I couldn't resist."

That's me, a ripe plum fallen from the tree, Mulder thought.

Staunton swabbed something cool over Mulder's wounded butt, and he hissed as it stung. "Cleaning the wound...it looks fine, Mulder. You're lucky. It didn't puncture too deeply, just enough to break the skin and cause a royal pain in the ass.... Of course, I'd say you're familiar with that feeling right about now."

Ha, ha, ha. "Yeah. Right." Mulder's cell phone rang, tucked away in his suit coat on the wall hook. Mulder leaned up on his elbows, watching as Skinner retrieved it and handed it to him. "Mulder."

\---"Scully here. I've looked up your medical file, Mulder. Your last tetanus was two years ago, so you're okay depending on the severity of the wound."

"The doctor has his hands all over it now, Scully." Staunton grinned at that. "He says it's not that deep."

\---"Good. Tell him the date, though, so he can make the determination. And Mulder--I won't mention this to anyone since I know you'll want to put the incident...behind you."

"Everybody's a comedian today. Thanks a lot." Mulder clicked the phone off as Scully giggled. He buried his face down in his arms, wondering if the bare-assed butt-to-the-world position was one he'd end up being buried in. Mulder bit back a groan, thinking of Scully and Skinner. He knew he was never, ever going to be allowed to forget this one: first, he let his ass get whipped raw, then two days later, his ass gets *nailed*.

I'm going to have to sit on one of those inflatable donuts like an old man. They'll be no working with Scully all week.

But at least he had ammunition if Skinner started in on him.

Player, huh? Mulder looked forward to hearing what Skinner had to say about that.  
  


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